The sun unzipped the clouds. Mist blew across the harbor.
Old boathouses near the dock.
Everyone loves water towers.
I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
A diesel crane and conveyor belt tripper are the major pieces of equipment that dominate the dock.
The vibrant colors clashed with the silent hotel.
Near the base of the mesa is a modern house, which seems to be a ranch of some sort. What a fantastic spot to live, but for the fact every rainstorm floods the arryos, muddy ditches at the bottom of gullies, making it impossible to travel.
A wounded flour mill, muscled into the corner to keep out of the way.
After demolition in the mid 2000s, this interior door became exterior. I remember walking through the car shed as a teenager. It was a shortcut, if I didn’t get caught.